Roland of the High Crags - Books 1-3

Chapter 6-2

How long I slept, I do not know. But when I awoke, the child was no longer in bed with me and the sounds of a lively household filled my ears. I threw the blankets off me as I slowly rolled out of bed. Cautiously, I rose to my feet for the first time in days. Surprisingly, I found myself feeling quite strong and refreshed.

“Good,” Tomasa smiled at me, looking over her shoulder at me as she continued working, preparing some kind of bread. “Right on time, I might add. You should never make fun of my Thakk Soup, Roland. Medicine is medicine. But it does not have to taste like brackish water.”

I grinned, nodded, and walked over to her to grip her shoulders with both hands as I kissed her on the top of her lovely head. Tomasa Runyan, Queen of the Bretan Wizards, was almost two hundred years old. But much of her youth’s beauty remained.

“Thank you, my son.” she replied, patting my hand with a hand covered in cake flour. “I will always accept such gestures of affection anytime from you. Now, if you are wondering where everyone is, I will tell you. There is a break between storms at the moment. Father has taken the children out and they are fishing in one of the bigger ponds. A big pan of fish and some fresh bread sounds delicious for tonight’s meal. Don’t you think?”

It was amazing to think this older woman, who held her beauty with grace and feminine charm, was once as powerful a wizard as her craggy-faced, bearded husband had been in his prime. Both professed to no longer delve into the powers of magic and wizardry. I had, however, my suspicions. A wizard never truly gives up his or her talents. The woman I have always looked upon as being my adoptive mother still could conjure up a trick or two. Another reason why I wished to stop here for a short time as we fled into the High Kanris. Her counsel would be invaluable to me.

“I feel your concerns, my son, for the child you protect. And your concerns for the twins, no less,” she said softly, half-turning with sparkling eyes to look up at me as she continued making her bread. “Peering into the future is always so cloudy. So murky and unclear. Even the child, as powerful as her gifts are, does not see the future with the clarity you think she does. Remember that Roland. No matter how powerful the magic is, magic cannot predict the distant future. There are too many variables, too many minds and computations, too many threads of the past and the potential future which makes such endeavors useless.”

“Yet, I would wish for some guidance, mother, as to what to do next. The Evil that is lifting its ugly head is powerful. But it is only one of my concerns. I have others. And one that gives me greatest concern of all. ”She smiled sadly, nodding her head as if she already knew what I was about to say. “There are humans, many humans, within the mountains who are quite willing to take the baron’s gold and do the baron’s bidding. Remember what St. Albans said; ‘From within come the worst fears.’ Yes. We must be aware of our human enemies more so than our dragon ones.”

From within come the worst fearsI grinned in appreciation as I looked at her. The woman’s mind was as clear and astute as ever. If I remained silent, I knew she would voice ideas that might turn out to be quite useful.

“This Clan Mauk warrior, this Captain of Baron Anktooth’s guards. Do you think he will raise an army?”

“I know not,” I answered, half-turning to listen as the first rumble of the next approaching downpour rattled across the forested valley. “The wealth the Hartooth controls is unbelievable. Warriors by the hundreds are flocking to the baron’s banners every day. The mailed fist he used before the walls of Odar’s Lair was beyond comparison. For all I know, the city has fallen, and the dragon clans now control the valley.”

She frowned and shook her head, continuing to knead the bread dough. Her facial expression changed as she worked, showing great concern and worry. Her face told me everything. Olaf still lived, and Odar’s Lair yet resisted the baron’s forces.

“Dragon strength continues to grow before the Second Wall in the valley. Yet strangely, there has been a decline in the number of fire-breathers. Why this has taken place concerns father and I greatly. It cannot be a good sign, we fear. We have sent word to several kingdoms, asking old friends in many noble houses to send help to King Olaf. Some squadrons of Great Wings have descended into the valley to augment the king’s forces. The Second Wall holds, for the moment, but the situation is desperate.”

“Beasties fled from the battle?”

“They did not flee,” Tomasa answered, shaking her head and frowning. “Our sources tell us they were withdrawn. Close to five hundred Beasties pulled from above the skies of the valley and sent elsewhere.”

I found myself frowning as well. What dark subterfuge did this portend? Had dragonkind found a new way to enter the High Kanris? Perhaps an unknown, and therefore unguarded, path into the high country? Such a prospect frightened me the most, as it frightened all who lived in these wonderfully rugged and forested peaks.

“Father and I agree. There are three key elements that must be done before we can confront the Hartooth,” Mother began with a resolve her voice I found comforting. “First, you must continue on your mission. Take the child to wherever you feel she will be safer and recruit warriors to come to her aid. You know the kingdoms, my son, and the noble houses that control them. No kingdom will officially come to the aid of a dragon clan, no matter how noble the deed may be. For over a thousand years, humans have fought the dragon. We, here in the Kanris, have fought to keep this tiny toehold of safety devoid of the dragon’s touch. So expect no great assistance from any powerful kingdom within the high country.”

She threw the dough into pans, and then took the pans and moved them across the cobblestone floor of the comfortable hut—flooring her husband had installed in the hovel years ago to replace the straw and packed-clay floors most peasant huts were built on. She then slid the pans into a small stone kiln built into the side of the large fireplace which dominated almost an entire wall of the hut. In seconds, the smell of fresh bread wafted into my nostrils and my mouth watered.

“As for a human army, my son, you are the perfect choice to find and recruit one. Your knowledge of the mountain kingdoms, your reputation as a warrior, your proven loyalty—, all are the ingredients to bring hundreds to your call.”

“Hundreds willing to fight for such a cause do not make an army, mother.”

“Aye. But it is a beginning, Roland. Begin with small accomplishments and build for greater ones. Your reputation as a warrior is known among the dragon baronies. A combined force could be built with you at the head and with the tiny princess as its rallying point.”

I was perplexed somewhat, and it must have shown in my face, for Tomasa, gazing up at me, smiled and shook her head.

“I know what troubles you, Roland. How is it that the dragon knows more of you as a wizard than your own kind? The answer to that, I know not. But they know more of the few of us who walk in the quiet places than our own do. Dragons are afraid of wizards, my son. Much as they are, deep in their hearts, afraid of Pearl Princesses who have the power to read minds and see vaguely into the future.”

“So the child is in danger from dragons as well as humans.”

“Aye, sadly,” nodded the graying beauty in front of me, her eyes clouding with concern for tiny Ursala. “Pearl Princesses have, in the past, been the ones who profoundly affected dragonkind. There has always been a price to pay whenever one comes into this world.”

I nodded. I knew it was so. Which made the desire to protect the child swell even stronger in my heart.

“But how do I meld a force of humans and dragons together that will fight as one? It has never been done before. Not, at least, on the scale we will need to confront our enemies. And in building this army, how do I protect the child at the same time?”

Tomasa began drying her hands with the apron around her waist just as I heard the cries of the dragon child laughing in glee, along with the hollering of two young boys filling the air just outside the hut. Mother and I both smiled as we heard the happiness in their voices. But we both smiled sadly, for we knew such carefree thoughts would soon be gone and may not return for a long, long time.

“Ah,” the woman sighed, shaking her head as she turned to look at me. “This world constantly filled with war is not kind to the innocent, my son. That is why we of the brotherhood and sisterhood were created. We are the ones who are supposed to protect the innocent and the weak.”

“We are so few,” I said almost in a whisper. “And our numbers grow smaller with each passing year. Especially so since the Dark Terror almost destroyed all of us two years ago.”

The Dark Terror was a span of two years when terror and hysteria gripped the hearts and souls of the peasantry in the high country. The fear of the dragon’s Dark Magic slipping into the High Kanris like some plague was, in itself, a vicious and murderous sickness. It made almost every human insane in the lust to find and destroy wizardry. The witch hunts, the hundreds of people burned at the stake—or drawn and quartered—were like a black malaise that made once-sane minds go senseless with fear and terror.

Wizardry in the High Kanris was systematically hunted down with the intent to be eradicated from memory. That any of us survived was miraculous.

“Yes, the Dark Terror,” my adoptive mother mused, her voice trailing as if she was deep in thought. “Your father and I have always suspected an outside force, some evil of powerful dimensions, was the source for this insanity. I wonder now if perhaps the Hartooth were involved. And what a wonderfully diabolical plan it was, mind you! Destroy as many, if not all, human wizards, and would not their ride to conquest be easier? Humph! This is the third task I mentioned earlier—finding this power within the high country who aids our enemies. We must destroy it before the tide turns against us. That is the chore father and I have decided to accomplish. We will come out of retirement to do it. The first two tasks belong to you, my son, and only to you. Protect the child and build an army. No other can accomplish these tasks. The third quest belongs to your father and me. We are the ones who will dispose of this evil. You can be assured of that!”

The door to the house burst open and four figures stood in the doorway just as the rain began pouring outside. All four of them were caked in mud from their head to their toe, with the princess being the muddiest of all. They were all laughing hysterically, including the princess, their smiles cracking the dried mud that coated their faces. In the old man’s hands was a mass of large mountain trout. In the boys" hands were two tiny fish barely large enough to fit in a man’s palm. In the child’s tiny hands was the largest trout I had ever seen. Half as large as the child itself, it was almost more than she could carry.